


ever treacherous in idealism

by tobus (asoldandtrueasthesky)



Series: we can change the world (but we can't right all the wrongs) [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asoldandtrueasthesky/pseuds/tobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He keeps expecting her idealism to fade away but it clings to them as stubbornly as the scent of cigars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ever treacherous in idealism

**Author's Note:**

> A list of their dæmons for reference:  
> Toby- **Murkurial** , a **flying snake.**  
>  Josh- **Illis** , a high mid content **wolf dog.**  
>  Jed- **Rathira** , a **golden eagle.**  
>  Leo- **Pythia** , an **African wild dog**  
>  Sam- **Ambi** , a **cape petrel.**  
>  CJ- **Alariel** , a **peregrine falcon.**  
>  Abbey- **Ferae** , a **genet**

Toby had been preparing for a defeat. Murkurial had been preparing for a victory. He keeps expecting her idealism to fade away but it clings to them as stubbornly as the scent of cigars.  
  
This time, her undying belief that the polls would be wrong; that the electorate would vote with their hearts and their minds and that his prayers would be answered proved to be founded. The electorate, in their limitless wisdom that he will never question again- or at least not for a week- have elected Josiah Bartlet as the President of the United States.  
  
Its early morning now and the parties and the media coverage have wound down but none of them want to leave the day behind. Instead the seven of them find a private room and pour themselves some expensive scotch except for Leo who doesn’t drink anything.  
  
For him, leaving the room will mean the end of the only campaign he’ll ever win, the peak of his achievements, the sum of every word he’s ever written. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking of the future, not now, but the initial euphoria has faded and he can’t help it.  
  
They’ll keep Josh, of course. Leo looks at him like he’s the son he never had and he’s a good enough politician when he’s not giving into his reckless tendencies. If they keep Josh they have to keep Sam- they’re old friends and probably naïve enough to make themselves a package deal. He’s a good writer, too, he might even be a great one someday. CJ, he’s not sure about but they’d have to be idiots to let her go. Then again, he is slightly biased.  
  
But it’s over for him. Even if what they find in his FBI file doesn’t put them off the President-elect has never liked him. There are better writers and they’ll have their pick of them now, writers who don’t come with gloom and prickliness or his uncomfortable habit of saying what he thinks no matter the consequences, no matter the person or their power.  
  
Telling the truth to power is somewhat of a required trait for politicians like them. Josh, CJ and Sam can do it well enough but they have a line they won’t cross, even with the governor of New Hampshire. For Toby, there’s no line when it comes to the truth.

_That should be a positive, not a barrier to employment_ , Murkurial thinks but Toby knows what should be and what is are two very different things.  
  
He balks at the thought of finding another campaign, of writing for lesser men. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to care about a by-election or a city council vacancy again, not now he’s written for a man who will soon be the President of the United States.  
  
The Bartlet administration will do great things- that he’s sure of, better than anything Hoynes would have done and even if he won’t be a part of it he helped them get there. That’ll have to be his legacy, that’ll have to be enough.  
  
_It isn’t_ , Murkurial says but there’s nothing she can do. They can’t change themselves, can’t make themselves more likeable. The divorce papers in his bag are proof enough of that.  
  
CJ breaks him out of his reverie, Alariel fluttering over to perch next to them. “Come on, Toby, don’t be a grump tonight. You can do your thing tomorrow.”  
  
“My thing?”  
  
“Your scowling and generally hating the world thing.”  
  
“Well, I would but it’s already one am. This is tomorrow.”  
  
“Don’t be a pedant either. Or I’ll ban you from the celebrations.”  
  
“You have that kind of power?”  
  
“I do now.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He grudgingly stops radiating doom or whatever the hell it was CJ had been sensing and focuses on the people in the room again.  
  
He’s not sure what the current topic of conversation is but Josh and Sam must be drunk- Illis is stumbling around in a rather uncoordinated fashion, Ambi attempting to hang on to her and failing miserably.  
  
Their nonsensical behaviour was bothering him far more than it should and he knew why. Ambi had _talons_ , it wasn’t that hard to grip on to fur. Murkurial had done it all the time on Seral. The familiar pang of longing for a bird dæmon rises up again and Murkurial, who will never be a bird, slithers onto the arm of the sofa to put distance between them.  
  
He realises CJ’s staring at him pointedly but he ignores her. There’s apparently nothing in here that doesn’t make him sad, not even himself; if CJ expected to see him smiling and laughing she’d have to deal with it.  
  
The President-elect clears his throat and Illis immediately sits at Josh’s side, ears pricked, while Ambi returns to Sam’s shoulder.  
  
“Have I ever told you all how Rathira settled?”  
  
Mrs Bartlet lets out a longsuffering sigh. “I’m sure Leo’s only heard it a thousand times.” She stands up. “If he gets into the physiology of Golden Eagles tell him to shut up.”  
  
“You know, Abbey, I don’t think people are going to tell me to shut up anymore.”  
  
“God help us all. When the world succumbs to nuclear war because you were busy telling your advisers about the fall of the Roman Empire we’ll only have the pomposity of the Presidency to blame.”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, Leo will tell me to shut up. He’ll just add sir at the end, lest it seem disrespectful.”  
  
She rolls her eyes but Ferae brushes against his trousers, not quite touching him but it’s an intimate moment all the same, enough for Toby to feel like he’s intruding on it. “Goodnight Jed.” She turns to address the room at large. “’Night everyone. Though I do know all your names, unlike some people.”  
  
The President-elect feigns offence until she leaves the room and promptly launches into his story.  
  
“Rathira had almost always taken bird forms, but she wasn’t often an eagle, or even a bird of prey. Sparrows, blackbirds, that kind of thing. But one day I was reading the Bible aloud in class- in latin, of course, and there she was- an eagle on my shoulder. And she never changed again.”  
  
He wonders what John Bartlet, the insecure man with a stick insect dæmon thought about his son, who must have been a prodigy from the moment he was born, having a golden eagle for a dæmon. He wonders if the President-elect had always been so proud of Rathira, if he’d ever wished she could be something else, something mediocre and unassuming to please his father. A sparrow or a blackbird, perhaps. Dæmons rarely obscured their true forms without a reason.  
  
He keeps quiet. It was nice to pretend he still had a chance of getting hired.  
  
“I wanted to be an eagle when I was little. Or a hawk.” Ambi says.  
  
“Not a falcon?”  
  
“We were nine, Alariel, we didn’t have every bird genus memorised.”  
  
Rathira turns her fierce raptor eyes on Ambi. “Why ever not?”  
  
The President-elect chuckles at Sam’s flustered expression. “Don’t worry, Sam, I didn’t have every genus of bird memorised either. Not until I was ten. And Pythia settled-“  
  
“Sir, shouldn’t I be telling that story?”  
  
“You never tell it right.”  
  
“I don’t embellish it, you mean. Let Josh tell his, he has a good one.”  
  
“Uh, Illis settled when I was fourteen. I was playing basketball with some of my mates and these other kids came by and tried to pick on us. One of them started threatening my friend so I blew up at him and Illis almost attacked his dæmon.” He grins a little sheepishly. “Everyone was convinced she was a full wolf after that.”  
  
“You grew up fast,” Leo says, a sadness in his voice that must indicate a history he’s not privy too. “When you were five Noah swore Illis was gonna be a hamster.”  
  
Josh puts on a weak grin while Illis stares intently at Pythia, looking on the edge of interrogating her for everything their father had ever said about them. “Way to destroy my reputation, Leo.”  
  
“Kids never grow up the way you expect.” The President-elect says and Leo, the only other parent in the room, nods sagely.  
  
Ambi’s wings flutter anxiously, as if Sam wasn’t sure if he was meant to contribute. “Ambi didn’t settle until I was twenty. Everyone kept assuming I’d already settled but she couldn’t make her mind up, kept going between a cape petrel and a storm petrel.”  
  
Josh rolls his eyes. “I’m sure there’s a world of difference.”  
  
“There is!”  
  
“Josh,” the President-elect says gravely, “Sam’s right, they’re completely different birds. Sure, they’re in the same family but people don’t make generalisations like that about mammals, do they? You’d be up in arms if I said Pythia and Illis were practically the same.”  
  
“Um, sorry sir. I will definitely respect the difference between cape petrels and storm petrels in the future.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Ambi preens herself rather smugly and Illis shoots her a glare. Toby half expects them to start tussling like schoolkids.  
  
“So, CJ, is Alariel a sign of your athletic prowess?”  
  
“I was a damn good basketball player actually, better than you Josh, but I was never a sprinter. My dad always said it was because of my quick wit or something.”  
  
“Probably also had something to with your freakishly tall thing. Female peregrine falcons are bigger than the males.” Toby offers.  
  
She elbows him. “You’re just bitter about being short.”  
  
“I’m perfectly fine with my height. And I’m 5’10”, I’m hardly suffering from a Napoleon complex.”  
  
“Only people who want to be taller know their exact height.”  
  
“Peregrine falcons are beautiful birds, Claudia Jean. Their name comes from the latin word peregrinus- to wander; they’re found all over the world.”  
  
“We’d better not let the media know you have a bias for birds of prey.” CJ says but Alariel stands up a little straighter.  
  
Murkurial nudges him and he realises everyone is looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to share.  
  
“Nothing much to tell.” He shrugs. “I was just walking home from school. I was twelve.”  
  
_While our father was awaiting trial_ , Murkurial doesn’t add. It wouldn’t exactly make for pleasant conversation.  
  
The President-elect is looking at him like he’s just revealed something important but can’t quite work out the significance yet. He realises Rathira is looking at him too and he looks down, uncomfortable.  
  
“ _Twelve_?” Josh says, sounding slightly sulky, as if he’d expected to hold the title of youngest settler among them. He brightens up after a moment, “Hey, who else would kill for some baby pictures of Toby?”  
  
“I’m sure the President of the United States could manage that.”  
  
Toby glares at both of them. The lamp next to the President-elect casts a dim light around them but doesn’t quite reach Toby, leaving him in shadow. He hopes it makes him look vaguely ominous instead of just grumpy but Illis simply wags her tail in response.  
  
“Oh, leave him alone.”  
  
“Thank you, CJ.”  
  
She grins, seeing an opportunity for revenge. “No problem, I’ll take my payment in baby pictures or embarrassing childhood stories.”  
  
Thankfully, Leo saves him from a retort. “You know, I thought I hired professionals for the campaign, not college students.”  
  
“You found some pretty damn good college students, Leo.” The President-elect says and they all can’t help but swell under his praise. “Let me say this: whatever happens, whoever ends up on my senior staff, I appreciate each and every one of you and all the work you’ve done, even if I shout at you a lot.” He’d definitely been looking at Toby for the last bit.  
  
He suddenly stands up and shakes each of their hands; he has a slight tremor but his grip is strong. Rathira flutters over to each dæmon in turn, bestowing them with a gentle touch of her beak.  
  
When she gets to Murkurial she seems to sense the disagreement between them and sends Toby a reproachful look. He ignores her. What did they expect him to do, suddenly discover a hidden pool of self-esteem?  
  
He leaves the room prepared for the crushing disappointment of the days to come, as the President-elect and Leo build their new administration with Josh and Sam and CJ. But Murkurial, ever treacherous in her idealism, is preparing for four years of speeches.


End file.
